


Dancing With the Enemy

by JantoJones



Series: Brief Briefings [71]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:49:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8774536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones





	

The Bailar Tavern, in the heart of the Spanish city of Valencia, tended to be frequented by the more unsavoury citizens. It was for this reason it was deemed the perfect place for a little bit of dirty dealing. A lot of less-than-legal business went on within its walls, and the local police usually steered well clear.

Willard James and Leland Olson sat in the corner of the tavern, wearing non-descript grey suits in an effort to remain unobserved. They were expecting a particular man, who was bringing them details of several on-going U.N.C.L.E. operations. The information would be highly prized by THRUSH central, and it had taken James and Olson several months to gain their contact’s allegiance. He also would be prized, as a double agent.

From across the room a guitarist began to play a fast tune, which brought a male flamenco dancer to the middle of the floor. Dressed in tight black trousers and shirt, the dancer looked like any other found in Spain but with a few striking differences. His blond hair, blue eyes, and pale skin marked him out as Northern European in descent.

With great gusto, Illya Kuryakin threw himself into the dance; stamping his heels as he searched for the men who were waiting for him. The information he carried was on a microfilm, which had been sewn into the edging of the black handkerchief he had hanging from the back of his waistband. He made his way over to the THRUSH agents and, making sure he was close enough, he allowed Olson to surreptitiously remove the handkerchief.

The deed was done. Illya had just passed intelligence to the enemy, which was something few people would understand, and which his detractors had been expecting. Not that anyone would find out about it. Kuryakin would make certain of that.

Finishing the dance, Illya quickly made his way out of the back door of the tavern, where he discovered Napoleon waiting for him.

“What are you doing here?” Illya demanded, looking around to ensure no-one had followed him out. “You were supposed to stay at the hotel.

“We’ve been called back to New York,” Solo replied. “Did you hand over the microfilm?”

“Yes,” the Russian replied. “Hopefully, the misinformation it contains will keep THRUSH Europe busy for quite some time.”


End file.
